Warmth
by Griselda Banks
Summary: Oneshot. "Time to reverse some of that suffering." Brotherly love, not Elricest.


**Author's Note: Just a bit of fluff for FMA Day. This idea popped into my head as soon as I saw this adorable picture: lyson dot deviantart dot com / art / Those-first-nights-were-cold-321926027**

Alphonse watched and waited, feeling helpless. Winry and Granny Pinako were both in bed, leaving him to watch over his brother since he couldn't sleep through the night anyway. And he'd done everything they'd told him – two different pills at 3 a.m., change the IV once it ran out, keep the rag on his forehead cool and damp. He'd _done_ it all, and still he felt like a useless lump of steel just sitting in the corner, not lending aid to anyone.

Edward still had a fever. His cheeks were still flushed and he shifted uncomfortably in his sleep, hugging the sheet to his chest and shivering violently. Alphonse longed to give him an extra blanket or, better yet, offer him the comfort of a warm body, but Granny Pinako had warned him that they really needed to get his temperature down. And he couldn't even tell if the medicine and the cool rag were doing any good.

There was nothing he could do. Nothing but sit next to the bed and watch his brother's fitful sleep, eying his bandaged shoulder and hoping the wound wouldn't open again. Sometimes Edward mumbled in his sleep, and when Alphonse could make out what he was saying, it made his heart sink down into his toes.

_This is your fault,_ he told himself. _You could have stopped this, and now look at him. You're so stupid, so naïve. So useless. A burden who can't do anything. And he gave up _everything_ just to get you back. Show some gratitude. Oh wait, I forgot. You can't. There's absolutely nothing you can do. Pathetic._

As he watched, Edward's eyes opened groggily. Alphonse cowered inside himself, expecting to see some kind of reproach in those eyes that echoed his own thoughts. This armored body he now inhabited would be a constant reminder of what a burden he was. He bowed his head in shame.

"Cold," was all Edward said.

Alphonse looked up in confusion, and realized that Edward was weakly tugging on one of his huge arms. Alphonse obediently lifted the arm, watching in surprise as Edward clumsily wrapped it around him so that the smooth metal pressed against his flushed cheek, and his hand was curled around the top of his head.

Slowly, cautiously, Alphonse ran his hideously huge fingers through his brother's hair. Edward immediately relaxed and hugged Alphonse's arm a little tighter, drifting back into a fevered sleep. Alphonse ran his hand through hair he longed to feel, hoping the cool metal of his arm would offer at least a little comfort.

Maybe his brother would put up with him at least a little bit longer, if he could help him in some way.

* * *

Edward groggily raised his head from the little cot he slept on in Alphonse's hospital room. He'd heard some soft, snuffling sound that he couldn't place, but as he looked around in the dim light, he realized what it was. Alphonse, curled onto his side facing away from Edward, was shivering on his hospital bed.

The nurses had given him a blanket, but the hospital was still cold. It didn't bother Edward too much; the days were warming up as spring slowly turned into summer. But Alphonse had only had a physical body for a week, and was still skinny as a beanpole. He could never seem to keep warm.

Hot guilt squirmed in Edward's stomach. He was the one responsible for this, for every hardship Alphonse now faced in his new body. If he hadn't been so _stupid,_ his little brother would never have lost his body, nor practically starved to death. He was the one who stood in the way of Alphonse being whole. Maybe he'd made up for a little of that, helping that body return to the land of the living, but he still had so much to atone for. So many mistakes, and Alphonse was the one who had to suffer the most.

Time to reverse some of that suffering.

When Edward got out of the creaky cot and shuffled over to the bed, Alphonse uncurled enough to look up. "Sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

"No problem," Edward whispered back, unceremoniously pulling back the blankets and sliding in next to Alphonse.

"What're you doing?"

"Cold," was Edward's only reply. He pulled the blankets back up and wrapped his arms around his little brother, pulling him close and letting the warmth of his own body seep into Alphonse's. He was careful to keep his cold automail leg away.

Alphonse smiled sleepily and curled one arm around Edward's neck, snuggling closer and pressing his cold nose to warm, soft flesh. Soon, his shivering subsided and he relaxed against his brother. "I love you."

And Edward relaxed too. Because he could see everything Alphonse was struggling with, he'd assumed all along that Alphonse blamed him, even resented him, for everything he had to suffer.

He kissed Alphonse's forehead. "Love you too, Al." Together, they drifted off to sleep, to dreams without guilt or sorrow.


End file.
